When she was alive, my mother got the biggest kick out of her dog, Maude. Maude was a Shih Tzu (the spelling of which I very carefully researched) and while I must admit that Shih Tzus are not necessarily my favorite breed in the world, Mom loved Maude like another child.
They went everywhere together. Well, almost. When Mom planned one of her weekend casino runs, my family and I would “dog-sit,” meaning we provided Maude a door to cry in front of until Mom returned.
As Maude got older, she exhibited many of the same frailities that people do as we age. Namely, she lost her vision. And her hearing. One day, when we were dog-sitting, Maude fell down the stairs. She survived just fine. Later, we all had a good laugh about it. Truth was, Maude hadn’t seen that first step and down she tumbled. Such was life for a 15-year-old lapdog.
I thought Mom sometimes took her coddling of Maude a bit too far — to levels I would never, ever achieve with any animal of mine. Unfortunately, I find myself not only remembering many of Mom’s habits but imitating them. I cannot say that this is an unconcious choice. I miss Mom (and Maude, too, a little), and my Jack Russell terrier is now the beneficiary of my grief.
Leo is not yet a year old, which means he still has a lot of puppy in him. He might grow out of it by the time I am ready to retire (if that ever happens).
I’ve only just begun to notice his biggest similarity to Maude. The other night, I was watching television when either A) a dog was featured in a scene or B) a barking dog could be heard on the soundtrack. Leo immediately began barking his head off. He ran to the screen and barked excitedly, shaking his cottonball tail stub. He got so excited I had to let him out.